Crave
by Lexi Rayne
Summary: 1. transitive and intransitive verb to have a strong desire for something, 2. transitive verb to beg somebody to do or give something B/V lemon
1. Orgasm

"So what is your favorite part of an orgasm?"

The two girls laughed loudly at the blonde as she gulped down her Shiraz and held up her finger signaling to the waiter for a refill.

"I guess I love, oh I cannot believe I am saying this…" the raven haired girl trailed off sipping daintily from her tea as the other two women sighed rolling their eyes, but with a sudden burst of energy she shouted. "My legs quiver."

The blonde pursed her lips and spoke in monotone, "Is that all?"

Chichi flushed and smiled coyly, "Well, when my legs quiver he just goes so deep inside me until I think it is over and then he hits the spot and it's like warm water washes over my feet to my thighs and then my legs go limp," she grinned devilishly, "until he starts again."

"It must be difficult for you to get it standing up," before Vibra poured her new glass of wine down her throat.

Bulma watched them shyly, not going unnoticed by her two friends. Vibra waited before she called the waiter, "My favorite part is when my nipples suddenly turn into rocks. I just love that tight feeling on my chest."

Both spied Bulma tossing her drink inside her martini glass, "I guess I like the uh, the whole thing." Knocking back her vodka she laughed nervously.

Chichi narrowed her eyes, "Of course we love the whole thing."

Vibra was right behind her, "how could all of it possibly be your favorite? Especially considering the huge mess?"

Bulma's brow furrowed, she cocked her head to the side pouting her lips, "It shouldn't— it's not supposed to—that is silly, no way." Her eyes darted between the women, "Not for everyone I think…"

Vibra frowned, "So never with Yamacha or just plain never?"

Bulma scoffed ordering a shot of 151, "Huh! Well, I just, you know. It's hard for him cause… I told you about his dick." She let out a heaving sigh and tipped her head back swallowing the burning liquid but at this point it didn't faze her.

"I take it that that actually translates into never."

Bulma pursed her lips glaring at Vibra, "You know it isn't easy when all you really want to do is please your man." Blue eyes met slate and she pouted feeling the effects of the liquor in her trembling thoughts, "I would rather give Yamacha head anyway. I don't actually like him going around there."

Huffing, Vibra took another gulp of her glass indulging in the fragrance and asserting coldly, "Are you frigid or is it just boring after so many years?"

Bulma took offense as Chichi chimed, "I have heard that frigidity is because of unresolved anger with your father. I think I would die if Goku wasn't so wonderful at plucking my strings."

"Wow, I am going to pretend that what just came out of your mouth was drunken ranting."

Vibra peered at Bulma, "Do not be upset because you can't get off."

"It isn't that I can't, I just haven't really tried and like I said everyone who has ever gone near my 'noche has been… ineffective." Holding off on another drink until her dizzied mind subsided she leaned back further into the plush leather of the booth.

The women had taken a night out and Vibra had a liking for high class bars prone to her supermodel peers and rich gentleman clientele. Bulma was treating them for the simple fact Chichi had to get away from her two Saiyan children and Vibra had offered some new insight into her life experiences as of late. It seemed that with her coming of age, in other words turning twenty one, Vibra had become quite an epicure, spoiling herself in such vices of food and drink. Bulma assumed it was her natural impulse taking over; her Id needed some momentary satisfaction before her Superego dictated her usual regime. Bulma hated to think about the impending doom, she would be ready especially for such innocent and ignorant bystanders as Vibra.

"You know what a good trick would be?" Both women looked to Chichi, "Get into missionary and have him go back and forth really close to you, that'll get your spot every time."

"That sounds so boring," Bulma contended.

Vibra interceded, "Why not just dump him and get a stronger man."

The two women laughed loudly, "What does strength have to do with cumming?"

Vibra shrugged, "I really see it more that Yamacha is not fulfilling your fantasies. Maybe you need someone more powerful to kind of challenge you and make it exciting. Like you said, you don't want it traditional."

"You know, we haven't really been screwing for a while now," in deep thought she recalled the last time they had actually had sex, "hey, the last time we fucked was months ago!"

Chichi was astonished, "Not even when he returned?"

"I don't know, we kind of don't do anything anymore. It's not like we are trying to be together or be away from each other, we just…"

"Know you want more," Vibra butted in pulling out a cigarette.

"Oh, I hate it when you smoke."

"Mind if I bum one?" Bulma asked at the same time Chichi resounded. "Calm down, this is the closest I have ever gotten to cumming."

"That's the real trick," Bulma quirked an eyebrow at Vibra.

"Drug use?"

"No, give yourself your own orgasm; no one knows your shit better than you."

Bulma shook her head, "It is not as if I have not tried. I just get bored."

Chichi sighed, "You are too high maintenance."

Bulma and Vibra laughed at the irony, "Girl that is why you have to fantasize." Bulma seemed puzzled and Vibra continued, "You are too old to be having this sort of problem. Anyway," heading off Bulma's objections, "what is your dream lover?"

"I don't know… someone who doesn't need to sleep over and won't bother me with silly anniversaries and smelly flowers. Someone who just knows what I want, I don't really like emotional guys."

Chichi was perplexed, "What kind of a woman are you?"

Bulma smiled, "I can provide for myself and I don't think love has to be a game or a show, I just want uncomplicated understanding."

"But communication is so important," mouth gaping like a fish.

"Look, I just don't want to feel trapped and monotonous. I want adventure and freedom. Besides I cannot put up with the constant stress of keeping up appearances."

Vibra nodded knowingly, "I understand, I like more of a giving man, mostly the type of material giving man I have but I understand."

Chichi looked thoughtfully at her hands, "Sounds like you need a jerk."

Bulma gasped, "Speaking of jerks, tell me why Vegeta is demanding more training bots all of a sudden. I already made upgrades to the gravity chamber and am working on a special Ki concentrator and despite all of my unspoken contributions he suddenly wants these bots he destroys as soon as he gets his grimy hands on. I don't get it." The two women raised their shoulders. "I have to say though that all of this fighting has broken the tedium since the Namekians went home."

Vibra perked up, "You should have sex with Vegeta."

Bulma laughed obnoxiously, "In your dreams!"

"More like in yours, he sounds like the perfect guy for you. He wants everything you want and won't ask for anything more."

Chichi grimaced, "He is an animal and a murderer, how could anyone love him?"

Vibra turned to her, "We are not talking about dirty lust wrapped up with a bow, we are talking about pure carnal love."

Chichi reserved her confusion with Bulma's next remark, "I don't mind who he is but I highly doubt he fucks." All the women laughed at the idea of Vegeta taking time away from his training for some extracurricular activities.

This is when Chichi intervened, "What do you mean that you don't mind who he is?"

Bulma giggled at Chichi's use of finger quotations for the word "mind." Tapping her finger against her lip she bummed another cigarette from Vibra inhaling sparingly, "It seems natural who he is, I do not condone it but it seems reasonable that he is so driven."

Chichi's distaste shown through, "Driven is a nice word for vicious and vindictive."

Vibra smoothed her hair behind her ear, "People are who they are; I say you just fuck him. If you get each other you won't have to talk about it."

"You are right; the whole thing doesn't have to just be about a relationship. I'll keep the terms of the encounter as casual, enjoyable."

Chichi was shocked, "Really?"

Bulma and Vibra laughed, "Chichi, I am not going to fuck Vegeta, I am still dating Yamacha and who knows maybe I am just a frigid bitch."

They resumed their laughter as the night carried on…

Bulma returned home, heels in her right hand as she unlocked the door with her left hand, clutch purse under her arm. Feeling her strapless dress hiked up on her thighs, her legs tightened with goose bumps in the humid night air. It was past three in the morning and they had gotten a little out of hand with their drinking. Each female had taken a prepaid taxi home. She shifted her weight to push the door in, she squinted her eyes to view into the darkness. Suddenly, a figure appeared an inch from her face and she sucked in a breath from fright.

"Dende damn you, Vegeta!" Her loud whisper had no affect on his bearing. Pushing her way passed him; she dropped her stilettos on the shoe cabinet and slid her comfortable slippers on her feet. Vegeta humphed and she turned to him depositing her purse on the counter as she tucked away her shoes on the rack. Closing the doors, Bulma straightened her spine and crossed her arms to emulate his posture. "Did I miss something?"

He stared at her deeply, never one for many words, "More bots."

She rolled her eyes and turned to walk away when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to her original spot but this time almost on top of the shoe cabinet. She narrowed her eyes not attempting to escape his grasp. Lately he had been handling her and she wasn't stupid, when a dog bites you do not pull away but push further into his mouth until he releases you.

"More bots, now," he glanced quickly back and forth between her eyes, almost searching.

She merely nodded, "Tomorrow." He leaned in closer and she slanted her head to avoid contact, "Look you ass, I am pretty damn tipsy and out of cigarettes, if you do not want your damn equipment to only _denote_ value then take your shit down a notch."

"Bitch," he almost hissed at her moving his face even closer to hers. "Your service is unconditional."

She smiled coyly, "My services are reserved to my liking."

He sneered and let go of her arm, "Tomorrow, dawn."

Her red lips peeled across her teeth, "I am not having your bullshit ready by dawn, which is in two and a half hours."

"Two."

He seemed to enjoy this game of torment. She could play just as well, "It will take _two_ weeks to have the parts available. You are an expensive guest."

"Anything useful," spoken as more of a statement than a question.

Smugly, she had her quip cocked and fired with perfect aim, "Nothing but the panties under my dress."

He pulled back and she chuckled again turning to escape the foyer. Again, before she could reach the wooden floor, Vegeta took her arm possessively and instead of pulling her back he bent her over with his other hand in her hair. Bulma fought this time. Falling to the ground on her knees, both her arms restrained behind her back. Whipping her head around she sputtered curses and kicked her feet from beneath her to strike him. Vegeta now had her flat to the ground, quelling the frail struggling of her lithe body. The hand in her hair removed was resting lightly on her thigh, at ease.

"Take them then." She could comprehend his physical language and was committed to her verbal mistake. The situation wasn't really as bothersome as she had let on; she felt his hand feather towards the edge of her dress. Hiding her face and the smile that appeared she spewed venom laced words. Her lower belly began to boil as her groin tensed with the sweet pain of lust. Did she sense timidity in those creeping digits, trembling?

"Do you taste as intolerable as your words?"

She lifted her face to side glance him, "Hope so."

He slipped his hand under the tight fabric reaching her hip and literally ripped the panties from her legs leaving the flesh to sting. The lace was brutally massacred and she knew she was getting wet from his assault. He lifted the panties to her face and ridiculed her demeanor with his tongue tracing quickly up the back of her neck. He then inhaled the scent of her thong and balled them in his hand. He was an animal and she loved it. As soon as he had squeezed the fabric, he was gone.

Bulma inhaled deeply opening her eyes as she shifted her weight to push the door in and awake from her fantasy. Her eyes squinted to view into the darkness, no one appeared. She ignored her disappointment making her way to her bathroom with her usual routine. Feeling the prick of arousal she hurried to the tub filling the porcelain with warm water and her favorite bubbly cream. Biting her lip, she left the door open. This escapade with the chance of, nay, her opportunity to get caught naked, soapy, and masturbating in the bath excited her more.

Shimming out of her teal tube dress, she reached behind to unsnap her strapless bra. Reveling in the liquor influenced sensations; Bulma cooed at her hardening nipples and traced her fingers lightly over her tight form. Looping her fingers in her lace thong, she remembered her fantasy and instead decided to tear them. It wasn't hard considering the flimsy fabric and the temporary welts sufficiently stimulated the desired response. Gleefully she entered the tub. Relaxing in the waters and the tickling bubble, she took in the lavender musk. Moaning and breathing deeply she rhythmically trailed her hands under the water and over her body, habitually moving her chest under and above the water. Feeling her head entertain the drowsy vertigo, she moved her right hand onto her lips and with heavy breaths began undulating her hips.

"Oh…" she found her clitoris easily as her desire flamed to life. Imagining him standing there in the doorway watching her, Bulma swirled her finger relentlessly over the nub of flesh. Her nerves alight, her heart beat harder and her veins filled with fire. Moving her nimble fingers faster, her toes curled deliciously and her legs widened unintentionally. Faster breaths and the boiling in her belly spread throughout her nether regions. Lips quivering, she felt something coiling in her loins, so tight her brow knitted. Moving her fingers faster, her hips erratically rose and fell as the water sloshed over the sides.

"More bots," she squeezed between clenched teeth and she knew she was at the brink. "Oh, now!" Her hands emphatically took her to a level of pleasure she had never been. She felt almost like she was going to... the burning in her loins so intense and centered. "Fuck!" she came crashing with the wave of heat flowing over her body as her inner walls clenched vigorously. Her vision blanched and she closed her eyes heaving for air and licking her lips. Her other hand pinched her left nipple as she rode this new crescendo of gratification.

"Very entertaining."

Bulma's head shot up to see her reverie standing in the doorway. She looked to her body that was easily visible beneath the beaten waters now lacking any bubbles. Moving to face the wall, she blushed and held up a middle finger. A few moments later she looked over her shoulder to find Vegeta had gone. Exiting the tub and wrapping herself in a black towel she drained the bath water and prayed not to fall on the saturated floor.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, Vibra, my favorite part is when my muscles clench inside. It is unspeakably erotic. The funny thing is orgasms are like potato chips, I can't have just one." The women laughed and Chichi relayed her ineptitude to exceed two, after which would often become soaring and too exhausting. "Kinda funny, Vegeta saw me do it." Both women spit out their tea as Bulma looked over her coffee at them.

"That is really sexy."

Chichi grew pale at Vibra's comment, "What happened?"

Bulma shrugged, "Absolutely nothing."

Vibra grinned, "Don't sound _too_ disappointed."

Bulma completed relaying the details of the night's events and the topic was shifted to yet again another question from Vibra, "How do you like your sex?"

"I really do prefer it to be slow and deep, but what I love most is being on top," Chichi admitted with crimson on her cheeks.

Vibra looked to Bulma whom refrained from answering admonishing, "You always make us fess up first, you go!"

"Well, I love is from behind and I especially enjoy a light spanking." Chichi choked on her tea and the two women expressed amusement in her plight. "Ok Bulma, now inaugurated, what's your favorite?"

Nipping her lower lip thoughtfully, "I think that I would like it best if whether sitting or standing we are both upright. I like a good workout and sometimes when Yamacha and I used to do it that way I would get close."

"Yeah, but you never won the race that way."

Bulma smiled, "He never did you mean." Chichi halted the conversation topic with an interjection in regards of Bulma's relationship with Yamacha. "Why is it always about me and my relationships?"

"Because Chichi is married and conformist, not to mention I am allegedly engaged and boring," sticking out her tongue with crossed eyes.

"Wow, well actually he called this morning we are going to the fight tonight in the convention center. Mineralez and Boulderon are boxing; I bet four hundred on Mineralez."

"That is ridiculous that the men in our life are always fighting and when they are not you still crave to watch other people fight."

Bulma raised her hands conjecturing, "Maybe I simply love action and conflict. You know stir up the pot, add spice to the stew—"

"We get it," Vibra interjected.

Brunch continued smoothly as the women departed for a final time before another stint in preparation for the upcoming battle. Bulma never enveloped herself in too much of real emotion, making satirical melodramatic outbursts in order to discourage any potent emotional reactions. She did feel the need for excitement no matter how she could afford it, was it a fault or just a vice? Pondering her introspective revelations, Bulma floated through her day unintelligibly.

As the evening approached she dressed accordingly in dark fitted Capri's, red collared shirt, and wedge sandals three inches high. Finally inserting her black diamond chandelier earrings and dabbing on her crimson lipstick she examined her image in the mirror admiring her sculpted body and supple curves. Taking a moment to undo another button on her blouse to emphasis her abundant cleavage she threw a peace sign and headed down stairs for a drink.

Vegeta stood in the kitchen with a turkey leg in hand over a platter holding only the bones of the creature. Bulma snickered and opened the fridge for some cranberry juice and champagne. She mixed her fruity beverage and sat on the counter an arm across her abdomen and ankles crossed.

"What are you doing out of your gravity machine?" He grunted finishing off the leg and washing his hands. "Well if I win this bet the proceeds are going to your new bots so be content."

He shook his hands and faced her, "My training bots put you in heat."

His question was again more of a statement and she did not hesitate in sipping her concoction, "Subconsciously," her eyebrows raised, "what is it to you pervert?"

He scoffed and dumped the platter into the sink. Bulma let her legs dangle open swinging carelessly. Vegeta suddenly appeared in front of her, between her legs and the glass slipped from her hand. He caught is deftly holding it to his own lips, he first sniffed the liquid and gulped it down ruthlessly. Then setting the glassware on the counter beside her, she waited.

"More bots."

"Stop fucking with me Vegeta, you are such a dick. Dende, go stick your head further up your ass and leave me the hell alone." As she spouted the insults, Vegeta leaned in lowering his head and smelling her neck. "So you are a voyeur and a hentai."

He stopped and lifted his head to pierce her eyes with his own, "I do not tread on your desires, and you have wandered astray."

The door bell rang and Vegeta was gone with a sweep of wind leaving Bulma to brood on his comment, which she avoided with multiple pints of lager and shouts for her underdog. Bulma won the bet and collected quadruple her investment for her confidence in Mineralez. Yamacha revealed he was dating another woman at the moment and with Bulma's blessings the unspoken was manifested. She felt sad that he was no longer her safety valve but determined that that was unnecessary. They shared a few drinks at a local pub and headed home with a platonic kiss. Dende knows Bulma was expecting the worst on arriving...


	2. Damned

Singing beguilingly, "Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name," Bulma softly padded into the solarium with arms extended above her head. Stretching, she felt the heat of the rising sun begin its magic on her skin. She smiled, rubbing her bare stomach and quickly towing her hair up into a messy ponytail. Her routine was not unlike her "superhero" friends, every week day morning consisted of a three mile jog in darkness and by dawn moderate yoga and light weight training, after which she would promptly fall back into bed for a cat nap.

Today she did not feel like slipping into a temporary slumber and decided to sunbathe. So a tan session was not so much the goal as the regenerative powers of solar rays, yeah, she almost believed that. It was too cool in the early morning air to lie outside therefore she remained in the glass cage of the solarium. Interesting to consider such an enjoyable room as a cage, maybe she did have unsettled issues of sorts, by now the damages were irreparable anyway. Laughing at her own internal monologue of pessimism and dry humor, Bulma spread her body out next to the cherry blossoms her mother coddled.

"My eyes have seen you, stand in the door, meet inside, show me some more," abruptly halting her tune, "damn him."

Tightening her lips she did not regret his absence upon her arrival home the other night. And if by chance that disdain had shown in his face to taunt her relentlessly, she would have without exaggeration or remorse permanently emasculated the alien. How did she even know for sure if he wasn't castrated? Mocking herself for the absurdity of her thoughts, she rolled onto her stomach and sitting up widened her legs into the splits. Vain of her flexibility, she laid on her belly with her head on her arms and her legs closing somewhat behind her. Staying in that position, Bulma entered a daze inconsiderate of any possible reproach for her stance or attire.

A figure discreetly moved over the resting female with their shadow cast as a sheet throw over her legs. The person titled their head watching the movement of the females breathing. Shaking their head at her disposition, the intruder decided the peril of the resting lioness could not be too great at the moment. Bulma hardly noticed the change in her environment until the individual bent down and prodded her shoulder with a pink manicured nail. Bunny Briefs quickly retracted her finger remembering the temper Bulma had had yesterday after her evening out, as if disappointed expecting something like a forgotten birthday gift.

"Honey, I was wondering if you wanted a nice Shirley Temple," Bulma pushed herself up into a sitting position eyes still downcast, "with vodka of course!"

Bulma was feeling a rush from the endorphins released by the therapeutic rays and smiled sweetly, "Mom, it's not even eight yet."

Bunny's brow furrowed, "Oh," thoughtfully, "well how about a Bloody Mary instead?"

Bulma sucked in air laughing at her mother's antics, "Well if you insist, I will tend your beverage myself." Bulma retreated to the marble tiled sitting room and her mother wound a convenient wrap around her exposed flesh. Bulma listened intently as Bunny recounted her day yesterday taking immense effort to describe in intricate detail the catastrophe with her Brazilian Bikini Waxer. "Mom, really I don't think you need to worry about one gray hair."

Mr. Briefs soon entered and greeted his two favorite girls, "Morning ladies," the cat on his shoulder mewed. Pecking Bulma on the cheek, he most indiscreetly smacked Bunny on her ass eliciting a high-pitched squeal. Bunny hid her face behind on hand as she readied the whiskey for Mr. Briefs' coffee. Exhaling through his nostrils the smoke from the cigarette hanging from his mouth he inquired, "What will you wonderful ladies be doing today?"

Before the women could answer a brooding Saiyan clomped into the room with a metaphorical rain cloud over his head. Bunny giggled uncontrollably while Mr. Briefs' shoulders noticeably fell. Bulma crossed her arms and her mother scurried to tidy up the bar, calling the maids to make food available. No one actually spoke to one another until Vegeta stopped at the couch and addressed the room.

"Are all human families so dysfunctional?" Mr. Briefs flinched at the sharp tone but Bunny was ready to prattle on incessantly about how happy she was to have such a wonderful family, recalling the wonderful memories of an adventurous Bulma and how wonderful an addition Vegeta was to the wonderful Briefs family. Raising his hand in motion to silence, "You sicken me with your assumptions."

Bulma no longer held her tongue, "Do not dismiss my mother so rudely, she is the only one here whom actually cares about your well-being."

Vegeta strode in front of her almost touching noses. Bunny again tried to hide her giggles behind her hand while Mr. Briefs hoped to intervene, "Vegeta, I believe breakfast is prepared." With eyes opened wide, he watched the electricity in the air surrounding them and grasped Bunny's elbow to exit, disregarded.

"Are you intentionally ungrateful," her words low and deliberate, "or did you lose half your sense when Frieza whipped your ass?"

Sneering, he watched her smug expression, "Is it that you wear so little fabric to distract people from your stench or out-whore your mother?"

Taken aback, her mouth agape and eyes blinking in astonishment, "You haughty, egotistical, monomaniacal pig. Don't ever judge or even think that you could—," his hand tugged on her wrap, pulling the fabric free and to the floor. "What the hell?"

"You are nothing but a pathetic, frivolous, narcissistic bitch." Shaking her head in confusion she lowered her head to look between her body and his. "Insufferable," the fabric in his hand, she could see him rubbing the satin between his fingers, slowly, "Excruciating."

Taking in a quick breath her eyes darted to his, "Damn you."

Moments passed as hours and her chest heaved uncontrollably, he smirked countering, "We are both damned."

He was gone along with his memento.

* * *

Tearing her attention from the schematics she had been attempting to decipher, she realized the effort was not in their level of encoding but rather in the preoccupation of her thoughts. Brooding, she removed her reading glasses and inserted a cigarette between her lips. Peering at her home office she turned towards the window behind her and passed the frame toward the gravity room. The chamber experienced fleeting light and she simpered raising a lighter to her fag. Drawing in oxygen deeply, she turned on her speakers. 

A jaunty guitar plucked playfully and Morrison's god-like voice sighed into the air, throaty and sexy as all of Bulma's dreams could have prayed for…

"Well, she's fashionably lean, And she's fashionably late, She'll never rank a scene, She'll never break date; But she's no drag, just watch the way she walks... She's a twentieth century fox, She's twentieth century fox; No tears, No fears, No ruined years, No clocks. She's a twentieth century fox, She's the queen of cool, And she is the lady who waits, Since her mind left school, It never hesitate; She won't waste time on elementary talk. She is a twentieth century fox, She is a twentieth century fox... Got the world locked up Inside the plastic box…"

Waiting for the chorus, Bulma realized she was this gorgeous but wholly superficial girl. Her body was her shrine and her desires were her motivation and curse. Vibra's Id was hardly ruling over her actions as Bulma's did her behavior. For Dende's sake, Vegeta was right! She was damned to her own life of loneliness and insatiable thirst for self-fulfillment. The best things in her life were sex, money, and fighting. And in spite of her initial revulsion, she knew that this physical gratification was not a mere habit but a lifestyle; her secular had become her spiritual. Feeling confident with her introspection, she exhibited a crooked smile and laughed to herself.

"Dende be damned."

Torn from her insightful soul-searching, the phone rang, "Bueno?"

Vibra announced her existence on the other line and continued to recant the male species, "Fucker screwed me and then some other whore waltzed into the room with a bottle of KY and two-way dildo!"

"Whoa! Thank you for the imagery after two weeks of not hearing from you but what the hell is this conversation leading to?"

Vibra heard Bulma's amusement and smiled despite her trials, "Let's get shit-faced."

Meeting outside the club Vibra apologized for her absence; she had been on a shoot across the ocean and was swept away by a native novelist whom in conclusion was no novelist but a womanizer and pizza delivery man. Chucking and taking hands they skipped up to the entrance. Bulma flashed her teeth at the broad shouldered bouncer. He immediately let them in, not without Vibra giving him a peck on the cheek and grope of the groin. Making their way to the bar they began their stretch of booze, boys, and a little bunk.

* * *

Hysterically guffawing, the two women assisted each other in finding the keyhole in Bulma's front door. Thoughtless of the possibly sleeping Saiyan, they made their way noisily to the living room kicking off their shoes at the door with resounding clunks. Vibra hooted Bulma's twirl in the middle of the carpeted entertainment room and they started up a movie and the radio. Thank God Bulma's parents had decided to downsize, leaving her the house and their detached living quarters, when she was thirteen.

Sniffling, "Bulma, I cannot believe you punched that guy!"

She shook her finger, "He was all over you and I was wired. I love you, no worries."

Vibra almost started cackling, holding her stomach and bending in half, "I think you broke his nose, I love you too!"

"Woman!"

The bellowing roar quieted the intoxicated females. Vibra gasped at the awoken roommate clutching a sheet around his hips. Bulma was not shell shocked as an under-the-influence Vibra. Scoffing, Bulma proceeded to stomp from the room into the hallway to address Vegeta in private. Vibra practically fell off the couch extending her head to witness the scene.

Now she whispers, "What?"

"If you insist on keeping me up, put your mouth to better use!" Eyes half-lidded, Bulma placed her hand on his clasping the sheet. "Woman, why are you touching me?"

Bulma blinked, sniffing, "I thought you said…"

"That if you insist on keeping me up, put your energy into making more bots!"

Pouting with tender lips, she moved onto his body her hand running trails on his fist, "No need to shout your highness, I just thought you might utilize one of my many talents?"

Sneering he spit the words out with distaste, "Do not touch me, you are incompetent."

"That rhymes with impotent!"

Bulma looked over Vegeta's shoulder and animatedly demonstrated a mime scene where if Vibra spoke out of turn again Vegeta would slit her throat. Vibra rushed into the kitchen and out of harm's way as Vegeta became more irritated with each passing second. His eyes closed in annoyance, muscles tensing with the endeavor not to strike her or the interloper. He took in some refreshing air and opened his eyes to find Bulma standing with slanted hips, one arm over her stomach and the other candidly tugging at her hair. The curls had become limp and flowed lusciously below her shoulders. The straps from her dress warped, one hanging to the side and exposing slightly more cleavage than was appropriate.

He swallowed, bottom lip jutting out as he chewed the inner walls of his mouth, "You are incompetent."

With that said, he marched out of the room with an air of sanctimoniousness. Bulma called to her friend to make herself at home as she chased after Vegeta into his room, adjacent to her own. Vegeta came to a halt at his balcony sliding door and dropped the sheet to reveal his naked posterior. Bulma blushed as she turned the corner into the room and stopped at the threshold, held up only by the mantling of the door. He reached for boxers, watching her with his peripheral vision. She hung loosely on the molding, her left arms supporting her body by gripping the side while her right hand hooked on top in order to straighten her physique. Disheveled, she loomed portentously.

"Dende be damned."


	3. Foil

"Fucking A," she bit the flesh beside her thumb nail liberally with duress. Rocking back and forth on the toilet seat, she cracked her knuckles. The anxiety eating away at her sanity, she closed her eyes, wanting a cigarette so badly she might pass out. Waiting, looking at the clock she would not dare catch a glance at the "window." Everything could change, either way, everything would change. Well, most of everything would change. Cupping her head in her hands, she scratched her scalp. This hair would not do anymore, she was going to change it; cut it. He liked it long. Cut it very short. He liked curls, straighten it. His favorite color was blue, she would color it green. Who was to know it was her only way of openly defying the quandary, that asshole?

Oh Dende, looking at the clock. Tick, tick, tick, retrieving the box from the ground beside the toilet, tick, tick, she threw the cardboard at the offending menace. So long, three minutes was prolonged and almost as indefinite as their sexual tension. Fuck! Feeling nauseated again, she traded positions, seat up and head over the bowl. Shit! Her eyes watered. She would not cry, she had never cried in private before. Only in public, Bulma measured it kind of like an alcoholic in that when you drink publically you are not technically a wino and theoretically if you are not emotional in private you are not a fucking weak, masochistic, stupid, bitch, slut, whore…

Peering over her shoulder at the clock, her eyes widened. She could do this, alone. She did not cry, the burning of her eyes was temporary and the nausea ebbed due to the thrill of having her wish. Three minutes had dissipated, still her heart sank. Straightening herself from being hunched over the porcelain she spotted the offending stick. Quickly glancing at the thin folded paper, she catalogued the steps:

1.) Remove the test stick from the foil wrapper and take off the **Overcap**.

2.) Holding the test stick by the **Thumb Grip** with the **Absorbent Tip** pointing downward and the **Result Window** facing away from your body, place the **Absorbent Tip** in your urine stream for 5 seconds only. (_You may also collect urine in a clean, dry cup and immerse the entire __**Absorbent Tip**__ in the urine for __5 seconds only._)

3.) With the **Absorbent Tip** still pointing downward, replace the **Overcap** and lay the stick on a flat surface with the **Result Window** facing up. Replacement of the **Overcap** is not necessary for the proper functioning of the test.

4.) You may soon see a pink color moving across the **Result Window** to indicate the test is working.

** NOT PREGNANT**ONE PINK LINE in the **Result Window**

Sighing, she pinched the curved sides hesitantly. Calming her nerves, she hadn't had a drink or any physical immoral indulgence since that night with Vibra. Moving her head to pop her neck and alleviate the stiffness, she opened her eyes reluctantly. The moment of truth and looking down she counted.

One…

Two.

No response, no reaction, not even shock.

* * *

"Mom, I am pregnant."

"Halleluiah, thank Dende! Oh, I have all the best places picked out for baby clothes and ooooooh, I know the sweetest palate for the room, by the way I already bought a cradle and— "

"What? A cradle, mom—"

"Oh and I have the best basinet, I bought it three weeks ago!"

Drowning in her latent happiness, Bulma covered her face with one hand and held her mother's hand with the other. A belated smile traversed her lips and she was glowing with satisfaction for her predicament. Thanking her mother without words for the support she had always given, Bulma inquired as to the whereabouts of these _wonderful_ stores.

"Do you even care who the father is?"

Pushing air as a puff through her lips and flapping a hand in the air, "Vegeta will be wonderful, and the best part? He won't interfere with our customs of raising a child! The baby is all ours!" Bulma careened with laughter, "Does he know yet?"

Bulma's exuberant happiness waned with the query. Exhaling gently, "I do not plan on telling him."

Bunny smiled, "Your father did not know I was pregnant until the fifth month."

"Wow," Bulma smothered her own personal examination of the incident, "I was hoping this kind of stuff was not hereditary."

* * *

Seven weeks ago, the doctor told her seven weeks. That was about the time they had started the affair. Not to negatively connote the word affair, it was just a sexual relationship. All that was involved was feeding of the impulses, no reason to imagine beyond the day-to-day occurrence of copulation. She was not even scared, just relieved to know that she was, in fact, pregnant. Worse than that, she was eager or better worded, exuberant with excitement for the impending birth of her baby. Her baby, Bulma was having a baby.

"Dende, please don't let it be a girl…"

* * *

"Uh, harder, yes harder!"

He pounded into her, holding her leg up with his right arm, left arm ripping the sheets next to her head. She screamed in ecstasy as he growled with approval. Teeth gnashing, he watched the lean muscles of her back flex with every thrust, matching his enthusiasm for the brute force of the sex. Her head moved to the side giving him a profile view of her magnificent face. Releasing a more intense huff than of previous pumps, he was captivated by her eyes.

"My name, woman?"

She seethed with rage that only receded with the inflection of pushing his cock deeper inside her. Bulma grinned instead, loving the thrill of his torture, "I… I could n-not say." He snarled and bit her shoulder mercilessly. Throwing her head back, hands leaping to grasp her headboard she wailed intermixing the pleasure with the pain, "I-I can't say, ahhhh!"

She came bitterly, smiling with his teeth planted in her flesh, hands gripping the rails of wrought iron. He reached beneath her, one hand squeezing her breast as the other tweaked her nipple.

"Say it." Unable to breathe from the physical stimulation, she gasped inaudibly, "Say it!"

"Uh, I love you!"

* * *

Vibra poked Bulma's head repetitively until the female awoke to a damaged entertainment room.

"What the hell happened?"

Vibra shrugged, "I only came back this morning, you tell me?"

* * *

"Dende be damned."

Vegeta's aura radiated thorough the air, she felt him powering up. Knowing he was watching her she dashed to him, swinging her arms around his middle and squeezing. He ignored her actions until he felt her head softly laid her head in between his shoulders, her heat spread from that center throughout his body and pooled in his chest. His breathing became unlabored and his power seemed less a stress than natural. Kakarotto's secret?

She held on, waiting and holding back every impulse, she had never done this before and the anticipation was enough to destroy her being and in spite of it all she waited. Constricting her grip more tightly, he felt her embrace as more than a simple nuisance for either party. Her well-being or good health or fortune, her happiness and comfort, even her security, giving it up for that moment of pleasure… what to do?

Her head touching his back burned into his thoughts. His clenched fists loosened and his arms relaxed at his sides. Licking his top row of teeth under sealed lips, he removed his mind from that moment and blankly stared into the abyss of the universe. He had not been a prince since the day his planet was destroyed, merely a pirate seeking those treasures lost. In the process he had compromised his self-concept molding his own identity. Having plundered so many planets, living a torturous existence where each day was a mere worship of the flesh, how could he deny her?

"We have the world wrapped up inside a plastic box."

* * *

"What do you mean he left?" Vibra shrieked over the telephone, almost accusingly.

Bulma sighed, five weeks along and still feeling heart burn and now sore breasts on top of it, "No regrets that is the way we live."

Vibra clicked her tongue, "You are the strangest girl I have ever known!"

Twirling the cord with her index finger, Bulma pondered her eccentric mannerisms, "Is it really that I am aberrant or merely that everyone else is hiding?"

Chuckling, "You girl, need to write some of this shit down. Your hormones are making you a poet." Both women entertained themselves with further hilarity until Vibra raised the million dollar question, "Is he coming back?"

Bulma paused unsure of what to expect from the Saiyan, "I understand if in not coming back he doesn't want the drama and if he does I understand that he needs his victories. Either way, it is not about us, me, or the baby," she heard the sadness from Vibra's hitched breathing on the other line. "The point is that he let me keep the baby only because I am self-sufficient." Receding into her thoughts for a moment Bulma knew that Vegeta and she lived socially unstable lives; their morals have been abandoned alienating them from the typically acceptable lifestyle. In reality, she felt that the circumstances best suited everything she had ever wanted, her fight was just beginning.

Vibra nodded into the phone slightly dejected, "What is love anyway?"

Smiling, "A nice trick to distract people from their mortality," and thinking to herself she knew that in facing that truth she would find herself. "So, I have a terrible craving for a corndog, dumplings, and some mint chocolate chip ice cream."

"Wow."

* * *

Bulma grasped her throbbing head and looked at her surroundings, "What the hell happened?"

Vibra shrugged, "I only came back this morning, you tell me?"

The television had a floor lamp impaling it while the carpet beneath the electronics had been badly singed. Thinking to herself, Bulma pitied the plant that she remembered stamping her feet on the night before. The dirt from the potted shrubbery lined the floor leading from beside the couch to the entrance of the kitchen. Dende, she prayed she had not damaged too much in there along with her entertainment room. Standing unsteadily, the two women removed themselves to the kitchen.

"Do you remember, cause I don't even know how I made it home?"

"I called a cab."

Slapping her forehead, "Really, because I thought I might have walked across town in the middle of the night," Vibra sarcastically remarked. Shaking her head at Bulma, she changed her tone, "Seriously, what happened between you and your roommate, Vuh, hmmm, Vuh—"

"Vegeta."

* * *

"We have the world wrapped up inside a plastic box."

He ignored her comment, feeling the honesty in her voice. Grunting menacingly, Vegeta came back to himself and thrust the girl away from him. Powering up instantly, "To breathe is to judge, Woman." He flew out of the window that phrase being his only gift to an inebriated master of the universe. He knew her time would come when they could not deny their attraction any longer. He foresaw his folding to yet again to opulence, if not to satisfy his desire than to divert fate.

He would be back and he would fuck her mad.

* * *

In the kitchen, Bulma contemplated these wicked thoughts. Telling Vibra the series of events, the blonde female acknowledged the candor behind the actions, "He is going to fuck you out of your good judgment."

Bulma agreed, countering, "And he will never forget it." Bursting into merriment, their joviality came to a crashing halt as their heads hammered furiously. "No more blow or binge drinking for a long time after."

Vibra, though physically aggrieved discredited the assertion, "I cannot jump on that bandwagon; sobriety is such a bother." Her bottom lip jutted out sweetly.

Bulma had her mind set on the conclusion, "I think I am going to enjoy the torment of temperance."

Vibra again snorted, "Without a single touch, he has already started to fuck you out of your sense!"

"He is my foil and parallelism will do that to you," Vibra watched her tentatively, "kill you luridly."


End file.
